


Said Nobody

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Beginnings, Character Study, Culture, Female Character of Color, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Refugees, Shuri being Shuri, Slice of Life, Snapshots, Starting Over, Unexpected friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-29 08:38:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13923429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: Brunnhilde (the Valkyrie) accompanies Thor to Wakanda.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devilc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/gifts).



> Because I owe DevilC a fic for being awesome, and she got me thinking about this at Escapade. A draft of this was posted to my Dreamwidth; this has been revised.

Brunnhilde wanted a drink, preferably something stronger than the flavored water Midgardians called whiskey, but that would not happen soon. She promised her king she would go with him to this place called Wakanda, though his reasoning (“They have resources to give us what we need, far greater than what the other Midgardians have”) seemed suspicious. Maybe she was just paranoid of any Asgardian king who requested she go anywhere, but no matter. She was present and, for the moment, sadly very sober, and she would protect her king.

After landing their stolen ship in a place called Norway, they had been greeted with wariness, confusion, and chaos until Thor had explained to the group who met them they were refugees. The Norwegian government had provided them with hasty accommodations, then a few weeks later, a small city of container homes complete with electricity, water, and heat. How another Midgardian government could help any better was a mystery to the Valkyrie. Asgard had been eons more advanced in so many ways. At least in this city called Oslo, most warriors were not women. Brunnhilde’s travels across the galaxy had shown her the diverse variety of genders and warrior forces, but few all-female warrior forces existed. Why she kept hoping for something different made her wish for alcohol even more.

One of Thor’s Midgardian companions, a man called Clint Barton but also answered to Hawkeye, had met them in Olso. He was their main pilot for the trip, helped by a black-and-red uniformed man named Lieutenant Amir Eze, who was with the Wakandan military. Brunnhilde learned that interplanetary travel was not something the Midgardians tried, but within the confines of the planet, they had different modes of travel depending on whether they were on land, water, or in the air. The sleek jet Clint led them to made Brunnhilde wish she still had her ship, but it seemed sturdy. Clint assured her it would make the trip to Wakanda in one piece, although at a slower pace than she might have expected otherwise.

“Sorry, we don’t have faster-than-light travel yet,” Clint told them as he and Amir started the preflight checklist. “This is the fastest the Wakandans have, so we won’t need to stop for refueling, but you’ll still want to get comfortable. Drinks and food are in the cabinet to the left of the seats. Thor, please show Brunnhilde how to work the seat belt – we will pass through a few storms.”

Thor found the promised food and drink and showed her how to work the three-point seat belt. Much to her disappointment, none of the drinks contained alcohol. Brunnhilde promised herself she would figure out if she could get the ingredients for Sakaar ale. Still, she had learned to eat when food was provided, and while the meal was nothing memorable, she appreciated its availability. She also appreciated the restroom onboard was not a piss hole in the floor, but more in line with the restroom facilities she was used to seeing after several weeks on Midgard.

Though the seats in the rear of the jet were comfortable, and the seat belt kept her in place when they hit turbulence, Brunnhilde soon bored of the journey and fell asleep despite her attempts to stay awake. Thor woke her with a gentle touch to her shoulder. “We’ll be landing soon,” he said.

She rose to stretch. A small partition hid the pilots’ seats from the main cabin, but otherwise her view to the outside was unrestricted. Hawkeye and his copilot held the jet's position over a lush green canopy of trees.

“Wakanda Air Control Tower, this is Hawkeye and Lieutenant Eze,” Clint said. “Permission to land requested, code Alpha Charlie Victor six-one-five-zero.”

“Permission granted,” an accented female voice replied, and a ripple moved through the air before them. “Please continue to the landing spire, and welcome back to Wakanda.”

“Thank you, Okoye,” Clint said, smiling, as the copilot echoed it more formally, calling Okoye ‘general.’

“What was that?” Thor asked.

“Holographic force field,” Clint explained. “Nobody gets into Wakanda without permission.”

“Why?”

“Because they have vibranium. It’s a metal from a meteor that crashed to Earth centuries ago in Wakanda, so it’s rare. The Wakandans mine it to build jets like this one, power their nation, and create advanced tech like nothing else on this planet.” Their flight path showed the stunning beauty of an ultramodern city, then a copper spire to the sky. “They’ve been pretending they are nothing but a nation of farmers. Even though the king announced otherwise a week ago to the UN, they are still reluctant to allow many visitors because they have something worth stealing.”

“Steve said they could help us,” Thor noted, concern in his voice.

“I wouldn’t be able to land this jet, let alone use it to fly you here, if T’Challa wasn’t willing to hear your case,” Clint told him. “Amir was along to make sure I didn’t steal it, sell it, or lose it. T’Challa is the king of Wakanda; he’s who you’ll be meeting, along with his advisors, who represent the other tribes of Wakanda.” Clint finished landing the jet with the aid of his copilot.

Once the jet was powered down, Clint unbuckled from the pilot’s seat and stood. He pulled something from a storage compartment to the left of his seat and donned both items. To Brunnhilde’s surprise, they were a quiver and a bow. He also removed a small duffel bag, which he set to one side to allow Amir access. Amir opened the door, which caused a ramp to extend to the ground.

“Thanks, Amir,” Clint said. “See you tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome, Hawkeye,” Amir said.

Clint led the way down the ramp, stopping only when a group of six women holding spears and dressed in ornate red armor blocked their path. Clint smiled. “Good morning, Okoye. I bring Thor, King of Asgard, and his guard, Brunnhilde of the Valkyrie.”

A bald woman stepped forward. Like the rest of the guard, she wore red armor, but where the rest of the group had silver collars and body shielding, she wore gold. Brunnhilde was immediately interested. Was this a nation where women could be warriors?

Clint finished the rest of the introductions. “My friends, this is Okoye, general of the Dora Milaje and the head of Wakanda’s armed forces and intelligence.”

Okoye inclined her head in a nod. “Come this way.”

She led them through a maze of hallways to a sunlit throne room. Behind the throne were tall windows overlooking the city. Two identical sculptures of a creature Brunnhilde did not recognize were pointed towards the throne. Three silver chairs flanked the throne on each side, which sat on a raised dais. Various individuals occupied all but one chair, giving Brunnhilde the sense of a royal court. Brunnhilde’s gaze was drawn to the man who sat on the throne. He exuded power, confidence, grace, and that something extra Brunnhilde recognized as belonging to kings. He wore a blue tunic embroidered with silver over a black shirt and pants. A silver bracelet encircled his left wrist. His throne was silver, with an oval back and half-arches on either side of the oval. A young woman dressed in a bright orange tunic, leggings, and running shoes stood to the king’s left, looking eager. Brunnhilde wondered who she was and thought perhaps she looked a bit young to be a queen, but she had been wrong about that sort of thing before, too. Speculation on that front still was not getting her any beer.

Okoye bowed to the man on the throne. “My king, Hawkeye brings our expected guests, Thor, king of Asgard, and his guard, Brunnhilde of the Valkyrie.”

“Thank you, Okaye, Hawkeye,” the king of Wakanda said. Okoye then took position at his right. “I am T’Challa. I understand you are not of this planet, and you had to destroy your world to save your people.”

“Yes,” Thor said. “We are from Asgard and are now in Norway. While the government there has been hospitable, we are…” He paused, trying to find the words. “Frustrated. My people want to work and be productive, and we are told we must wait. For what, the Norwegian government does not say. Steve Rogers and Hawkeye suggested I ask you if you could use people used to working with advanced technology and have knowledge of science far beyond what most of Earth knows.”

T’Challa studied him. “And in return, what do you want us to give?”

“Homes for those people willing to move here,” Thor said. “My people visited Norway millennia ago, which gave rise to some of its legends, but they are….”

“Wary and untrusting to find their gods are real, living beings?” T’Challa finished, amused. “Steve mentioned you were having difficulties. I have spoken to our scientists, and they will meet with you to see how your people can be of use to us. My sister, Princess Shuri,” he gestured to the woman to his left, “will led the effort. She is the head of our science division.”

“I appreciate it,” Thor said.

“Before you go –” T’Challa shot his sister a look when she started to move off the dais, “- how many people shall we expect?”

“Five,” Thor said.

From the looks on the Wakandans’ faces, they were surprised by the small number.

“Only five?” T’Challa asked. “We thought you might have more.”

“We escaped with only a third of our population,” Thor said. “Our journey through the galaxy was not without loss. We arrived here with fifteen thousand people, including many children. I was not sure if you would welcome more than a handful. I limited the number to those willing to make the journey.”

That brought an understanding smile to T’Challa’s face. “We will plan for those chosen individuals.”

“Now?” Shuri asked impatiently.

T’Challa rolled his eyes. “Now you can go.”

Shuri bounced off the dais. “Come, this way.”

Amused, Brunnhilde followed, noting as she did so that Hawkeye also joined the group.

“They’ll talk for a while,” Hawkeye told her as they moved through the hallway. He handed her a small device. “If you get bored, this is a cell phone. Press these buttons here –” he showed her which ones “– and I’ll rescue you.” He grinned. “Gotta go see my wife before she gets upset. Oh, and there’s a chair near the main door. Don’t ask Shuri about getting any alcohol; she’s not old enough to drink yet and her brother and the general will not be pleased you asked. I’ll join you and Thor at dinner.”

Mission accomplished, Hawkeye pivoted and left. Brunnhilde frowned at the device, then remembered seeing Thor using a similar device a few days earlier. Shaking her head, she jogged to catch up to the princess and Thor. The room they walked into was nothing like the dark, formal, table-and-chair-filled conference rooms Brunnhilde had seen in Norway. Brunnhilde had seen enough variants of a science lab in her travels to know she was in one now.

“Welcome to my lab,” Shuri said, and pulled up a chair for Thor. “Have a seat.”

Shuri and Thor fell into a technical discussion which Brunnhilde did not follow. She knew enough science to know how to pick up any weapons system she had encountered in the galaxy; beyond that, she did not care. She noted that a few of the same female warriors who had greeted them were stationed near the exits of the large work area they had entered. Silently, she approved. A princess should be guarded always, especially if foreigners were present. Brunnhilde saw the chair Hawkeye had mentioned; it looked comfortable. She ignored it for the moment, not wanting to fall into a trap. When it became clear her skills were unnecessary, she reluctantly took the seat. Much to her surprise, the chair gave her a clear line of sight to where Thor and Shuri were seated, and good angles for other points of entry. For a moment, she wondered who Hawkeye had watched here, then dismissed it as unimportant.

An hour later, Shuri and Thor had completed their negotiations, and arrangements were underway. As Brunnhilde prepared to follow Thor out, Shuri paused to hand her a glass half full of a purplish-blue liquid.

“Thor said you had a headache,” she said, smiling. “I thought you could use this to help.”

Brunnhilde sniffed it experimentally. Finding the scent completely unrecognizable, she shrugged her shoulders, then took a sip. It tasted like the Midgardian red wine Thor had her try a few days ago, which had barely registered as alcohol in the Valkyrie’s book, but it was better than nothing. She drank the rest and smiled as she handed the glass back to the princess. “Thank you.”

Shuri smiled. “You’re welcome.”

It was not until they were in the jet for the flight home that the effect hit. “What the hell did she give me?” Brunnhilde demanded, looking at Thor.

Thor lifted an eyebrow. “I asked her for something to take the pain away. You have been short-tempered and irritable with everyone ever since you discovered your stash of Sakaar ale was gone. I need you, Brunnhilde, preferably sober.”

“Nobody said I needed to be sober,” Brunnhilde argued, though the throbbing pain behind her eyes that had been a constant companion was disappearing.

“I said,” Thor said quietly. “The people we are going to bringing to Wakanda will need someone to act on their interests, to be the liaison between the Wakandans and them. Would you be interested, or would you rather lie in your bed, drinking every ration of alcohol?”

Brunnhilde narrowed her eyes. “Do I really have a choice?”

Thor spread his hands. “I cannot force you to do anything,” he admitted. “But I would very much like it if you were in Wakanda, helping our people and getting to know what makes Wakanda different, starting with the Dora Milaje, the female warriors who met us when we stepped off this jet.”

The Valkyrie sighed at the logic. In addition to being Odin’s elite warriors, the Valkyrie had been his spies and assassins. Brunnhilde was the last of her kind. “You want me to spy on them.”

Thor smiled. “Or you could just ask them if they have a better whiskey.”

From the pilot’s seat, Hawkeye called back, “The answer is no, but you might like the sweet potato vodka they make.”

Brunnhilde sighed. “Fine. But I will not be taking any more drinks from Princess Shuri without asking more questions.”


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next week, Brunnhilde became more familiar with Hawkeye (“Call me ‘Clint’,” he insisted), as he was the pilot for the move to Wakanda. He told her he, along with some of the other Avengers, had sought refuge in Wakanda. The king had allowed him to bring his family to Wakanda, since he had been worried that they might be hurt by something called the Sokovia Accords. Clint also explained how to use both the cell phone and a handheld computer he called a tablet to access something called the ‘Internet’ so she could look up anything she wanted more information on, which helped Brunnhilde get up to speed more quickly even while it opened the door to new questions.

The jet Clint flew with Amir for the move allowed for more passengers and more storage, but she had not expected the scientists have grabbed some of their Asgardian equipment and reference materials. Clint laughed when she made the comment as they watched the loading of the equipment.

“You should ask Thor how he met Jane and Darcy, and what they tried to ship to London,” Clint commented. “Scientists always hold onto their stuff. You wouldn’t leave home without your sword; why should they have left without their precious equipment? Or, in the time you have been in Norway, acquired even more?”

Brunnhilde scowled. “You make too much sense.”

Clint patted her shoulder and held up a clear cup of a black liquid. “Before you go yell at them they might take too much stuff, do you want coffee?”

Brunnhilde eyed him warily but took a sip. The roasted flavor exploded across her tongue. “What is this?” she demanded.

“Plain black coffee,” Clint explained. “It’s made from a bean that’s ground and roasted. It’s a stimulant. Too much will dehydrate you and can make you jittery.”

“I hope you didn’t want this cup back,” Brunnhilde began.

Clint only smiled.

The coffee eased the morning headache she had been experiencing and made it easier for Brunnhilde to do what Clint suggested. Still, the first flight was limited to only one scientist due to the cargo they were carrying. Brunnhilde helped offload the equipment and move the scientist to her new quarters in an apartment building close to the palace. Flights after the first one went more smoothly now that Clint and Brunnhilde knew what to expect – and Brunnhilde was more prepared to tell the scientists they should not move every piece of Asgardian equipment to Wakanda, lest the temporary camp was left bereft of the benefits of having said equipment for the remaining scientists to use.

The first evening, Brunnhilde was invited to dinner with the king, his royal court, the newly arrived scientist, a few of the other Wakandan scientists, and Clint and Laura, his wife. That set the pattern for the remaining arrivals. By the last dinner, Brunnhilde had Wakandan politics figured out, and was firmly convinced Princess Shuri would make a formidable queen someday. The soft-spoken Queen Mother was a surprise; somehow, she had not expected her to exist, let alone be as a resource and a source of strength. Brunnhilde was also convinced T’Challa was hiding something, but what, exactly, she could not figure out. Then an idea struck her.

As her role was to be the liaison for the Asgardian scientists, Brunnhilde had an apartment of her own in the same building. It had been furnished with what had been described to her as ‘all the basics’, but beyond the bathroom and bedroom, Brunnhilde had no clue what to do with the cabinets full of items. She had read the note left by Clint’s wife, who was acting as the Asgardian’s personal caterer, and had set up a schedule with her for getting meals going forward, but Brunnhilde still had questions. As nice as Laura seemed, what Brunnhilde wanted to ask was nothing she wanted Laura, and by extension, Clint, to know.

As the final dinner concluded, Brunnhilde waited until the others had left the table and hung back to wait so she could ask Okoye. Okoye did not go with any of the exiting royals out of the banquet hall, trusting in either her subordinates to go with them or some other means of monitoring not obvious to Brunnhilde. Much to her surprise, Okoye then made sure the kitchen staff cleaned up the mess left behind and commanded the leftovers to be consumed by the palace staff or trashed.

Curious, Brunnhilde asked, “Will they not do their jobs without your presence?”

Okoye chuckled. “Yes, but this is part of our tradition. Centuries ago, a poisoner tried to wipe out the royal family by dosing the leftovers. One of the king’s sons refused to eat in front of others and ate alone or with only the company of his brother, the crown prince. The crown prince had learned of European nobles dying of poison, so he would never let his family eat without having one of the Dora Milaje sample everything.”

“Saved by the royal guard,” Brunnhilde deduced, and Okoye nodded. “Do you not feed the palace staff otherwise?”

Okoye laughed. “We do, and the royal chef is fantastic at calculating how much people will actually eat; consequently, we rarely have leftovers to serve anyone. We dislike wasting things; though we have plenty now, we have had years when the crops did not grow and the sky did not rain. Vibranium technology has taken us far, but it is not a cure-all.”

Brunnhilde was surprised. “That seems prudent. I am much more accustomed to buying my food or sitting in a feasting hall and eating what is served. I know Laura will be our caterer, but how is that going to work long-term?”

Okoye smiled. “She will teach anyone willing to learn to cook. Did you talk to her?”

“I did, but she admitted she is still learning how to cook your traditional dishes,” Brunnhilde admitted, noting as she spoke that Okoye’s eyes never left the kitchen staff, who quickly cleaned the banquet hall. “Would you be willing to teach me? Or tell me how to purchase what I want?”

“Give me a few more minutes to ensure this room is clear,” Okoye said. “Then we can talk in my office.”

Brunnhilde waited patiently. When the room was clear, Okoye walked out, waiting until after Brunnhilde exited to lock the banquet hall. Okoye then led the way to a part of the palace complex Brunnhilde had never been in before – much less decorated, more utilitarian in appearance. Two Dora Milaje stood guard in front of a double door decorated with the crest of their order, and saluted Okoye when she stopped in front of it. She returned the salute before the guards opened both doors for her.

Brunnhilde was not expecting to see an office with a view of the palace’s aircraft landing platform as its central focal point. Nor was she expecting one with a wall full of books. A comfortable-looking couch sat in front of the wall of books, with a low table in front of it. A tea service sat on a rolling cart just to the left of the window, close to Okoye’s wide desk. Two chairs sat in front of the desk. Behind Okoye’s desk was a wall of cabinets, many with locks. Brunnhilde took the seat to the right of the desk as Okoye sat down behind it.

“Would you like tea?” Okoye asked.

“If it’s the red stuff I’ve been drinking, no, thanks,” Brunnhilde refused. “It tastes like colored water. I’d rather drink alcohol.”

Okoye laughed. “Alcohol I do not have here.”

Before she could stop herself, Brunnhilde said, “Where I’m from, warriors drink alcohol, not tea.”

“So I’ve gathered,” Okoye said. “We save it for special occasions. As for teaching you – you are not asking about cooking. Laura also mastered the art of haggling in our markets. If you wanted to learn either skill, Laura would be an excellent teacher. What is it you want to know?”

Brunnhilde met Okoye’s gaze. Okoye stared back, cool, composed, and confident. Silently, Brunnhilde admitted she had underestimated Okoye’s observation and deduction skills.

“You are head of a warrior force, the Dora Milaje. Are the Dora Milaje the king’s force to direct? Are you all women?”

“It is tradition that the Dora Milaje are all women,” Okoye said. “We are the personal bodyguards and royal security of the Black Panther. We serve the throne of Wakanda, and function as the country’s special forces and intelligence division. Whoever sits on the throne may command us.”

“But you are not the only military the country has,” Brunnhilde said.

Okoye shook her head. “We are, as you already know, a nation of five tribes. Each tribe has a strong fighting tradition, so children grow up knowing the traditional ways each of their home tribe fights. Those who show strong promise are asked if they want to help defend our country. Our national military is a voluntary force; no one is coerced into uniform. Even the Jabari send people; they use it as an opportunity to find out how the rest of the country operates.” Okoye flashed a grin. “We pretend we don’t know that’s what they send their young people to do.”

“And how do you pick those who will be the Dora Milaje?”

Okoye smiled. “They volunteer. Not everyone who volunteers makes the cut; if they do not pass the rigorous training, they are offered other positions within the military.” Okoye paused. “How were you chosen?”

“I do not remember,” Brunnhilde admitted. “I tried to forget many things about my past. Odin created the Valkyries. It feels as though I was born with a sword in my hand and the words to tame a Pegasus on my tongue. We were a thousand warrior women strong.”

Okoye blinked at that. “Who is Odin?”

“Odin was Thor’s father.” Brunnhilde grimaced. “He was the king of gods, the All-Father, Protector of the Nine Realms, the god of wisdom and war.” She smiled bitterly. “I have spent centuries trying to forget his name and his deeds.”

“Why?”

“Because he sent us to die,” Brunnhilde said flatly. “I need a drink for the rest of the story if you want to hear it. All I will say is that I am the last Valkyrie alive.”

“I’m sorry,” Okoye said sympathetically. “Is that why you’re so interested in us?”

“In my travels throughout the galaxy,” Brunnhilde said, leaning forward slightly, “even with the diversity out there, all-female warrior forces are few, and tend to be in societies where a female is in charge.”

“What do you want to know?” Okoye asked. “Mind you, some things I cannot share.”

Brunnhilde considered. “I am not asking you to share how you operate,” she said. “How old must you be before you can join?”

“Eighteen,” Okoye said. “We also require that a candidate finish schooling.” Okoye flashed a smile. “Some believe we are nothing more than a group of potential candidates for queen, but only because it has not been uncommon for a king to find a match amongst us. This is not something I encourage. You cannot have divided loyalties.”

Brunnhilde’s eyes widened. “You consider love to be a divided loyalty?”

“I serve the throne of Wakanda,” Okoye said. “I fought my love over this issue. He saw the error of his thinking. Do you not serve the throne of Asgard?”

“I serve the king of Asgard,” Brunnhilde said. “They are the same since we are without a throne.” She cracked a smile, and found Okoye returning it. “You mentioned something a moment ago. Who is the Black Panther?”

“The Black Panther is the protector of Wakanda,” Okoye explained. “He has been blessed by the panther god, Bast, and has enhanced abilities.”

Brunnhilde stared at her. “You will not tell me who that is, are you?”

“No.” Okoye picked up a tablet. “If you have no further questions, I have work to do before I can consider my day finished.” She glanced at the tablet in her hand. “Best you get moving before your curfew. Esihle will guide you out.”

All foreign visitors had a curfew for their safety; no one was allowed in the streets after 10 pm or before 6 AM. Brunnhilde scowled, wondering what happened in those hours that risked foreigners’ safety. No doubt that was when all the locals went to party without having to worry about strangers making fun of their actions. Still, she took the cue to leave. Tomorrow would be soon enough to find more answers and report back to her king what she had learned.

Eshile turned out to be the Dora Milaje warrior stationed on the right-hand side of the door. She was Brunnhilde’s height, with an oval-shaped face and green eyes. Like all the Dora Milaje, she had shaven her head, and had the same overall solid musculature. The only way Brunnhilde would recognize any of them as individuals would be by their faces, eye colors, and height. “This way, please,” Eshile said.

They were almost out of the compound when Princess Shuri called, “Wait!”

Brunnhilde turned to see the princess run up to her and thrust a package in her hands.

“I couldn’t help but notice you wearing the same thing every day you’ve been here,” the princess said breathlessly.

Shuri’s comment stung. “I assure you, what I am wearing is clean, and I bathe daily,” Brunnhilde said stiffly.

“I meant no insult,” Shuri said, apologizing. “It is your uniform, yes?”

Brunnhilde nodded. “I would be remiss if I did not wear it in this situation, and I own more than one.”

Shuri smiled. “I noticed your armor is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but I thought you could use this.”

“What is this?”

“A bulletproof chest protector,” Shuri explained. “Try it on, please. I had to guess.”

Brunnhilde did as requested and found the garment to be the same rough weight as the metal vest she often wore into battle to defend against sword attacks. Lifting it off, she handed it back to Shuri. “Thank you, but I am not sure I need it. Also, it is loose and would not offer much protection in its current state.”

Shuri smiled. “That’s okay. If you come to my office tomorrow, we can make adjustments.”

“I do not think I need anything of the sort, Your Highness,” Brunnhilde tried.

Princess Shuri scoffed. “How can that be?”

“Only a god or goddess can kill a Valkyrie,” Brunnhilde said. “I am immortal otherwise. Believe me, I have tried to die.”

Shuri’s eyes grew wide. “Oh.” She paused, her eyes searching Brunnhilde’s face. In a concerned voice, she asked, “Do you like getting hurt?”

Mystified as to why a princess would care about her, Brunnhilde replied, “No, but why is it a concern of yours?”

“Clint likes you, and Thor says you saved him,” Shuri said. “That means you matter to people I care about.”

“And that’s all it takes to be your concern?” Brunnhilde was surprised.

“Maybe where you’ve been living, people are in it for themselves,” Shuri said, indignant. “But here in Wakanda, we pride ourselves of taking care of our people. You brought us people who can help, who in just a few days have shown they can. I may be a genius but even I know when I need to know more. You brought people who know more about things I didn’t know existed. That means more to me than I can explain. Plus, I promised Thor I would make sure nothing happened to you, and I keep my promises.”

Brunnhilde was astonished by the young woman’s vehemence. “Perhaps I have been living too long on the edge of the galaxy,” she allowed. “Where life is a game to be won or lost. It has been a long time since anyone cared what happened to me.”

Shuri scowled at that news. “We should totally change that. Come see me tomorrow,” she insisted. “We can start by making sure you are properly armed for combat here. Then, no one who knows what you are will just assume you’re human, and you will blend in when you fight.”

“What makes you think a fight is coming?”

Shuri rolled her eyes. “Because we announced to the world we have technology and resources men have killed to get in the past. A fight is coming, whether it’s over vibranium or something else.”

“Princess, we need to get moving if Brunnhilde is to be in her apartment before curfew,” Eshile said tactfully.

“You’ll come to my office?” Shuri asked Brunnhilde.

The princess seemed reluctant to let her go without an answer, so Brunnhilde said, “I will.”

“Good. I will see you tomorrow.” Shuri beamed, then hurried away.

Brunnhilde waited until they were out of the compound to ask Eshile, “Is the princess always so determined to get her way?”

Eshile smiled. “If you do not want to see her tomorrow, I can make your excuses.”

“No, she has a point,” Brunnhilde said. “I do not know what Midgardian bullets would do but Thor has told me it is not a pleasant experience.” She followed Eshile out of the palace and into the street. “Would I owe the princess anything for her efforts?”

“You would have to ask her,” Eshile replied. “I do not presume to speak on her behalf.” Eshile paused before adding, “She might do more than just a vest if you let her. Is what you’re wearing part of your armor or all of it?”

“Part of it. I have a metal armor that goes over this for battle.” Brunnhilde did not add the armor was inscribed with enchanted runes for protection; that was her secret, and if the Wakandans were not willing to share all their secrets, she saw no reason to share all of hers. “I also have armor for riding a Pegasus.”

“What’s a Pegasus?” Eshile asked.

“A winged horse. I do not think your world has ever had them.”

Eshile giggled. “Only in the Greek and Roman myths I learned in school.” Eshile glanced at Brunnhilde. “Do you have to scrub your armor every day? I must use a toothbrush and be very careful. If I let it go one day, I regret it later. Wakandan dirt is not just dirt; it sometimes has tiny flecks of vibranium in it and sand.”

“Not every day, but I have to clean it. Though I suppose I will need to be more careful, since it will be impossible to replace what I have now that Asgard is gone.”

“You should mention that to the princess,” Eshile suggested. “She seems interested in you.”

“Forgive me for asking, but how old is she? I cannot imagine she would be interested in me for more than a friend or science project.”

“Sixteen years old,” Eshile said, smiling. She added, “In our culture, that means she is not old enough to decide her marital status without permission from her parents. Since she is a princess, it also means she cannot engage in romantic relations without permission from the Queen Mother and the king.”

Relieved by that explanation, Brunnhilde said, “Asgardians live for hundreds of years, so we take the long view. Let children be children; there is plenty of time to be an adult.”

“I cannot imagine my life to be that long,” Eshile said. “And if I may say so, you do not look older than me.”

Brunnhilde smiled. “I have looked this way for centuries. I age very slowly.”

“In Wakandan culture, we do not see aging as a failure or something to be feared,” Eshile said. “Merely a progression of time in which hopefully you have gained wisdom and knowledge you can pass on to a younger generation, so they will learn from the things you have lived through.”

Brunnhilde closed her eyes briefly. “Not all cultures share that same viewpoint.”

“So I have heard.” Eshile stopped in front of the entrance to the apartment building.

“Thank you, Eshile.”

Eshile saluted her in what Brunnhilde recognized as the Wakandan salute: forearms crossed over the chest, then pressed together twice. “Sleep well. I will see you in the morning.”

The apartment building needed a key card to open the main door and unlock the elevator; the same card also opened her individual apartment door. The card was tied to Brunnhilde’s thumbprint. As far as she was concerned, the card was nice in that it did not require her to carry a jangling ring of keys. Since the stairwells also operated on the same key card, Brunnhilde skipped the elevator in favor of the stairs up to her twelfth-floor apartment. The exercise eased the ache in her muscles for having stood or sat in one place for most of the day. It did nothing to ease the headache, chills, or other withdrawal symptoms she was experiencing from having ceased her alcohol consumption, but she had quit without help before, when the Grandmaster had needed her to chase a wily potential champion.

Nobody said quitting would be easy. Brunnhilde considered this her fight to win. If getting an armor upgrade courtesy of a princess determined to have her way was part of the journey, then Brunnhilde would be a fool to say no. She had come to Wakanda to serve her king, and he would get a full report of what she had found. She might ask Shuri for another drink of that amazing headache potion, though, or perhaps find Clint for coffee. If she could not get alcohol, she would find something to ease this ache.

And maybe, just maybe, she would let herself care for others again. It would be good to have companions she trusted, people who would not see her as a mere tool to be deployed, friends who would watch her back on the days when alcohol sounded its siren call and she was not strong enough to resist without intervention or assistance. Already, it felt good to know at least one royal other than Thor cared about her well-being. Brunnhilde took a deep breath and let herself believe this time would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it (and I mean it this time)! Hope you enjoyed it. If you do, please let me know - I love reading comments, constructive criticism, keyboard smashes, "I like this!" type comments, things you liked about what I wrote, etc. even long after I've forgotten I wrote this fic. :-)


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